


the stars on your skin

by buckydarling



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: CHES ILY, First Kiss, M/M, Modern Era, Pining, Stargazing, trans!albert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 09:05:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13586817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckydarling/pseuds/buckydarling
Summary: Al and Finch go stargazing.





	the stars on your skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Imnotweirdjustwriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imnotweirdjustwriting/gifts).



> i love
> 
> this ship
> 
> rarepairs yay!!!

It’s Friday night.

 

Al feels like he should be more excited - he’s a college student, after all, so the words “Friday night” should trigger in him a desire to drink cheap beer and trash some frat house, but he doesn’t feel like partying. Not tonight. He wants to do  _ something,  _ though; his hands sit in his lap, fidgety and restless as he watches Finch clean from his spot on the bed. (It’s Fi’s turn on the couch tonight, he vaguely remembers, but he doesn’t remember the last time that couch got slept on by either of them - they keep falling asleep together as they talk late into the night, and neither of them has bothered to question the fact that they keep waking up with their limbs tangled and their hearts beating in time.)

 

(No. Albert is  _ not  _ thinking about that right now.)

 

As if he can tell that Al’s thinking about him, Finch meets his eyes with a soft smile, quirking an eyebrow in that little way that makes Albert want to melt into the floor. “You know, Albie,” he quips lightly, “if you think any harder I think you might just explode.” 

 

Albert flushes, tucking his hair behind his ear. “Do I really look that distressed?” he asks, and Finch shrugs, walking over with a pillow that somehow made its way onto the floor overnight and fluffing it before putting it on the bed, hoisting himself up to sit cross-legged next to Al.

 

“Not distressed,” he muses. “Just,” he pauses to think. “Pensive,” he decides, and Al grins.

 

“Pensive, eh?” He nudges Finch lightly. “Keep it up with those big words of yours and soon you’ll be just like Davey.” Finch blushes, shrugging apologetically. 

 

“Ain’t nothing wrong with being like Davey,” he reasons. “He’s smart.”

 

Albert nods in agreement. “You’re smart too,” he tells Finch, who blushes soft pink in a way that should be absolutely  _ illegal.  _

 

“Not like Davey,” he mutters bashfully, looking down at his lap, and Albert frowns.

 

“Course not,” he says. “Only Davey is smart like Davey. You’re smart like Finch.” Finch looks up, a startled smile appearing small on his face. 

 

“You really think so?” He asks, and Albert nods.

 

“Yeah,” he responds. “I really do.”

 

They sit there for a moment just staring at each other fondly, long enough that Albert thinks he might lose his mind and do something absolutely stupid like kiss Finch, but then the silence is broken abruptly by the broom in the corner falling over, and they both jump.

 

“Anyway,” Finch says awkwardly, “penny for your thoughts? Looks like you had a lot of them.”

 

Albert shrugs, watching as Finch gets up to keep cleaning and flopping over into the warm space Finch had just been occupying on the bed. “Just a little bored, I guess. It’s Friday, you know? I wanna go out and  _ do  _ something, but I’m sick of watching Race and Jack and everyone else get wasted at parties.” Finch snorts.

 

“Don’t act like a fucking saint, Albie,” he quips, and for some reason, the affectionate nickname sends ping-pong balls rocketing around in Albert’s chest. “You’ve gotten wasted at your fair share of parties.” 

 

Albert scoffs, and Finch laughs before continuing. “But I know what you mean. It’s boring after a while.” He smirks. “Plus, it was getting annoying having to drag everyone’s drunk asses home afterward.” Albert snorts.

 

“You’re telling me. I was Race’s  _ roommate  _ freshman year.” Finch hisses in sympathy, deciding he’s done cleaning and coming back over to the bed. He stares accusingly at Albie, who makes no move to get up and make room, before hoisting himself up anyway and simply putting Albert’s head in his lap. Albert’s heart skips a beat, a flush quickly rising to his cheeks.  _ Control your fucking gay, Al,  _ he scolds himself, but all rational thought flies out the metaphorical window when Fi absently runs a hand through his hair.

 

“Wanna go stargazing?” Finch asks him suddenly, and Albert’s eyes widen as he shifts up to look his roommate in the face.

 

“That,” he responds, “actually sounds like fun.” 

 

Finch smiles brightly. “Awesome! It’s pretty clear out tonight - I looked it up earlier.”

 

Albert laughs. “Of course you did.” He sits up reluctantly, missing the feeling of Finch’s fingers running absently through his hair. “Is it dark out enough at this point?” Finch nods, standing up and stretching, his shirt lifting to reveal a bare strip of skin. Albert flushes, hurriedly averting his eyes.  _ This is a bad idea.  _

 

“Yeah, at this point stars should be out.” Finch grabs a hoodie and shrugs it on. “You want to grab a few blankets?”

 

They make their way up to the roof of the building laden with blankets and wrapped up in layers, chatting quietly. A chilly breeze whistles across the rooftop as they settle on the ground, gazing up at the unusually clear sky. Finch shivers and Albert moves a little closer, resting his head on Finch’s shoulder and searching the stars with his eyes.

 

“Name some constellations for me, Fi,” he requests quietly, and Finch smiles, reaching up with the hand that’s not pressed against Albert’s side to point to the night sky. 

 

“There’s the one everyone knows,” he starts in a soft voice. “The Big Dipper. See the brightest star at the end?” Albert nods, focusing on Finch’s voice and the shapes he’s vaguely tracing with his pointer finger until he finds the constellation glinting brightly in the night sky. “That was the first constellation I learned,” Finch murmurs, sounding almost lost in a memory. “It’s in the glow-stars on the ceiling, too. Right above our bed.”

 

_ Our bed.  _ He’s not wrong - it is the bed they technically share and therefore calling it  _ ours  _ isn’t incorrect, but for some reason hearing Finch say it out loud causes something like fireworks in Al’s chest. Another wind blows across the roof, and Al uses it as an excuse to curl closer to Finch’s side, breathing in the soft scent on his sweatshirt. “Show me some more.” 

 

Finch points over to the side to a bright string of stars. “There’s Orion’s Belt - I bet you’ve seen it before.” Another cluster over further. “Gemini. The twins. Mike and Ike are Geminis - ain’t that something?” He turns to Albert. “What’s your star sign?” 

 

Albert smiles. “Leo.” Finch hums. 

 

“Leo is…” he trails off, searching intently, before grabbing Albert’s hand and pointing it carefully. “There. You can just about see it. See above the roof of that building?” 

 

Albert tears his mind away from the feeling of Finch’s hand wrapped warmly around his own and focuses on where he’s pointing. The stars form the vague shape of the animal, and Albert nods into Finch’s shoulder. “Yeah, I see it.” 

 

A falling star streaks across the sky, and Albert gasps, sitting up and clutching onto Finch’s hand. “Fi! Did you see that?” Finch laughs, squeezing his hand gently. 

 

“Yeah, that was cool,” he responds, and Albert meets his eyes happily.

 

“Make a wish, Fi,” he whispers, and Finch looks a little startled.

 

“What?” he asks, laughing a little. 

 

Albert grins sheepishly. “I know, it’s a bit of a kid’s thing, but humor me?” He shifts a little closer to Finch, their gazes locked together. “Make a wish. What’s one thing you wish you had, right now?”

 

Finch’s breath hitches almost imperceptibly, and Albert doesn’t even have time to open his mouth to ask what’s wrong before he’s cut off by a pair of warm lips on his own. 

 

Finch kisses him soft and almost nervous, like he’s worried Albert’s going to push him away. His lips are chapped, and a warmth blooms from the kiss, flooding through Albert’s entire body until he’s sure he’ll never be cold again. Finch pulls away as quick as he leaned in, eyes worried and searching, trying to assess Albert’s reaction. 

 

“Shit,” he breathes, panic creeping onto his face. “Shit, Albie, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t ha--”

 

Albert seizes his face and pulls him in again, kissing him determinedly with no room for doubt. Finch lets out a small startled noise before eagerly reciprocating, moving his hands to Albert’s waist and pulling him closer, almost into his lap. Albert moves his hands from cupping Finch’s face to wind into his hair, tugging gently and eliciting a gasp. Albert takes the opportunity to open his mouth and deepen the kiss, tilting his head to an angle, and Finch pulls him closer still, fingers skimming under the hem of Albert’s sweatshirt. 

 

They break apart with a ragged gasp - Al isn’t sure who it comes from, but they’re both breathing hard, limbs tangled together, eyes locked. Finch’s hoodie has come a little unzipped, revealing an exposed slice of neck and collarbone where the collar of his shirt’s shifted, and Albert can’t resist leaning down and pressing kisses there, melting at the soft noise it elicits from Finch. One of Finch’s hands comes up to wind into Albert’s hair, and he grins into Finch’s neck.

 

“Al -- Albie, we should --  _ Jesus, _ ” Finch gasps out, his attempts at speaking cut short as Albert sucks a mark into his collarbone, “we should -- we should probably move inside.  _ Christ.”  _ Albert nods breathlessly, reluctantly detaching himself from Finch and kissing him once more before standing and pulling him up. 

 

They sprint across the roof hand in hand, and they’ve barely made it halfway down the stairwell before Finch pins Albert against the wall, kissing him fiercely. Albert groans, caving a little before pushing him away. “Fi, we gotta -- apartment --” Finch nods, breathing heavily. They stumble down the stairs and down the hall, Finch fumbling with the doorknob as Albert presses kisses to his jaw before the door finally opens and they fall inside, shutting it behind them. 

 

Finch practically shoves Albert backward onto the bed they’d been sitting on not thirty minutes earlier, climbing up after him to press him into the mattress and kiss him senseless. Bracketed on either side of his shoulders by Finch’s arms, Albert runs his hands lightly up and down Finch’s sides, fiddling impatiently with the hem of his shirt as they kiss and kiss, hoodies discarded on the floor. Finch moves from Albert’s mouth to his neck, and Albert’s mind goes blank. Everything is Finch, Finch’s hands in his hair, Finch’s mouth sucking a mark onto his collarbone, Finch’s full weight pressing him down into the mattress. 

 

Finch pulls away suddenly, pulling his t-shirt over his head and tossing it to the side, and Albert sort of forgets how to breathe. Finch is  _ gorgeous,  _ his chest heaving as he catches his breath, all built muscle and smooth skin that Albert wants to run his hands all over. Finch catches him staring and flushes. “What?” he asks, and Albert shakes his head.

 

“You’re fucking stunning, Fi,” he gasps out, still short of breath, and Finch bends down again to kiss him roughly before pulling away to tug at the hem of Albert’s shirt. 

 

“Can I?” he asks in a whisper, and Albert nods, lifting himself to sit up so Finch can pull his shirt off, discarding it with their sweatshirts on the floor. Finch’s breath catches again, and it’s Albert’s turn to flush pink, looking away self-consciously. “Albie,” Finch breathes, his touch ghosting like fire over Albert’s bare skin, “fuck, you’re so beautiful.” His nimble hands trace Albert’s skin, the scars on his chest, the freckles that cover his shoulders and chest and everywhere else on his body. Albert shrugs. 

 

“‘S not a big deal,” he mumbles, and Finch shakes his head in disbelief. 

 

“Look at you,” he breathes. “You’re covered in stars.” His fingers trace lines and shapes in the fields of freckles on Albert’s shoulders. “You’re like the fucking night sky.” 

 

Albert lets out a shuddery sigh, kissing Finch long and hard. He presses their foreheads together. “Name some constellations for me, Fi,” he gasps out, and Finch’s eyes widen. He kisses Albert again, softer this time, before moving down to his shoulders.

 

“The big dipper,” he whispers, tracing out the shape in the freckles on his shoulder before pressing a kiss to the skin there. Albert’s breath hitches at the unexpected gentleness of his manner, the soft press of lips. Finch moves to trace a line of three freckles on Albert’s chest, skimming it over with his thumb. “Orion’s belt,” he whispers just as soft, kissing each soft brown spot in turn. Reaching up to cradle Albert’s face with both hands, Finch leans in to trace a shape across the bridge of his nose. “Gemini,” he murmurs, kissing Al’s nose so sweetly he feels something in his chest burst. 

 

“Finch,” he sighs, reaching up with a hand to tangle his fingers in Finch’s hair, kissing him long and slow and lazy. Finch hums, pushing Albert back until he’s lying down again, propping himself up over him and kissing back, and it’s so gentle and slow Albert feels like he might explode. “Fi?” he asks, suddenly unsure, and Finch leans back a little to look at him, eyes concerned.

 

“Something wrong, Al?” he asks.

 

“This isn’t just, like, physical for you,” Albert asks hesitantly, “right?” He looks away, unable to meet Finch’s gaze. “I’m stupidly gone over you,” he admits quietly, “and I just want to make sure that there are --  _ feelings  _ here. That we’re on the same page.” He wrings his hands until he feels Finch grab them in both of his own, steadying them.

 

“Albie,” Finch says, and Albert lifts his eyes to meet Finch’s reassuring gaze. “I’m so head over heels for you it’s not even funny,” Finch confesses, but he’s smiling, and Albert can’t help but mirror it, leaning up to kiss it off his face and allowing himself to get lost in love and soft breaths and the taste of Finch’s smile. 

 

The next morning, he wakes up with Finch in his arms, his head buried in the crook of Albert’s neck, and he’s never been so happy it’s a Saturday.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you ches for giving me finchal i love you
> 
> tumblr: hispanicjackkelly


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